I hate these kind of days, the weather seems to want to kill us all, Lalo is sick. There is no money to buy nice winter clothes, there is no time at all, I could continue like this for quite a while, but I got a lack of enthusiasm concerning complaining. And now this letter: shall I be happy, shall I cry. I am so terribly confused, on the one hand I really would like to go to this island with the funny name, but there are lots and lots of problems. Mainly problems of organisation, but the amazing advance is that I would not have to talk to mum about it anymore and Paula and I would finally find out more about our father. What a grotesque story this is. Our father is turning into an absurd cartoon-character, and now we are supposed to find our roots in Ireland. Well, as I said before, I do not know whether I should cry or laugh.
Travelling with Paula, O my god she is such a kid, but maybe this is the one chance we always needed, to become something like friends, not only sisters.
Maybe she will finally accept the way I lead my life and not with attempts to fullfill mumīs education, as she definetly failed. We already started planning, somehow, at least we met in Bonn to decide whether to go or not. There's another crazy thing, we are going via Brussels, where we were born. Good old town. Me and her. Me and the cutey. First time ever without mum.